Amidst Ashes
by sparklyscorpion
Summary: AU. A simple request changes the course of several lives, and Laurie must rebuild her own amidst the ashes.
1. i, ii, iii, iv

_Author's note: Watchmen belongs to Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons; I'm just borrowing the characters._

_Yet another fic written for the Watchmen kink meme on livejournal, although there is no porn. The prompt: "ADRIAN/LAURIE, AU where Dan's dead with Rorschach and the rest of New York, and Laurie has no idea her old friend is the one behind the carnage. As creepy-realistic as you can make it - him wanting her to be his miserable trophy wife beard type person out of desperate loneliness, and her being unnerved but nonetheless falling into it 'cause she's got no one else." _

_Thanks to my beta, Mongie._

_This is probably going to end up being three or four chapters long.  
_

* * *

i.

Adrian sits at his desk, gazing at the familiar skyline of New York and wondering how it will change once his plan has been enacted. He regrets the devastation the city will suffer at his hands; he has lived here for years, and although he doesn't consider this place home, he has become rather fond of it anyway. But it is a necessary sacrifice.

The phone rings, interrupting his reverie. It's the head of his creative team; the creature is ready, and the team will be leaving the island later today. Of course, the man on the other end of the line has no idea that he will never reach the mainland. Another necessary sacrifice.

Glancing down at the pile of papers cluttering his desk, Adrian sifts through them with disinterest. He needs to get back with the toy people about their proposed changes to the line. It's a mundane task, considering everything else that is on his plate at the moment, and he doesn't look forward to it. Instead, he doodles an arrow pointing to the first of November on his planner. It is a meaningless date for most people now, but soon it will live forever in the hearts and minds of those lucky enough to survive. He includes himself in their number, even though he will be the cause of the desolation.

_No_, Adrian thinks as he scribbles another arrow in the box reserved for the first of the month. _Not the cause, not really. I'm the doctor, excising the cancerous tumor of war from the body of mankind. My ultimate purpose is to save, not to destroy._

He suddenly remembers that Laurie's birthday is in the middle of November, and he pencils in a note to call her. Adrian doesn't pause to wonder if she'll even be alive to celebrate.

* * *

ii.

Laurie doesn't want to believe it, although the fragments of truth have been obvious ever since she was a little girl. It is only now that she has finally managed to fit the pieces together, forming a ragged patchwork quilt of her past that has no discernible pattern or purpose.

"Eddie Blake is my…is my…"

She screams until her voice cracks, and then she hammers her fist against Jon's perfect clockwork castle until it shatters, the pieces raining down around them. "Not him," she whispers hoarsely. "Please, not _him_."

"Laurie?" Jon sounds more emotional than he has in years, and that only makes the band constricting her chest tighten more. _Now_ he is concerned, now when it is almost too late…

"Take me to California. I need to speak with my mother about…" Laurie chokes and can't force the rest of the sentence out. She doesn't know what she wants to say, anyway.

Some things are just beyond mere words.

* * *

iii.

After Jon leaves Laurie at her mother's condo, he goes to New York City. His mind is usually so clear, but now the edges are blurred and out of focus. He doesn't know why he's here, except that he is meant to be. It feels slightly wrong to him somehow, as if it's not supposed to happen exactly like this, but he knows that is ridiculous. His every footstep is predetermined. He blames the strangeness on the overload of tachyons fogging his vision.

The devastation is incredible. Skyscrapers have crumbled into heaps of debris. Bodies fill the streets. If he was still human, Jon is sure that he would be on his knees weeping at the scene.

But he is not human any longer, and so he goes to Karnak to play out his last hour spent on earth, for that is how his future is scripted.

* * *

iv.

Daniel is waiting for someone to tell him that it's all a joke – an elaborate, sick, completely tasteless joke – but no one is laughing. Millions murdered by _Adrian_, of all people?

It's preposterous.

It's...true.

Now the smartest man in the world has formed an unlikely alliance with the most powerful man in the universe, and they both say that they all must remain silent or the deaths will have been in vain.

Rorschach doesn't hesitate. He simply tells them that they must be joking, that he will not compromise, that people must be told, and then he strides out of the room. He doesn't run; he doesn't even hurry. The man's gait is as confidant and deliberate as it has ever been.

Dan has a decision to make, and quickly. Does he side with his old partner or with the most prolific mass murderer of all time? There's no choice to make, really. He studies Adrian and Jon for a brief moment before calling for Rorschach to wait for him.

They are together again, partners once more. The pair walk out of Karnak, preparing to tell the people of New York City – the entire world – what has truly happened here.

Together, Rorschach and Daniel come to a stop when Jon calls out their names. Together, they both square their shoulders as the glowing man raises his hand.

And, together, they meet their fate in the snow.


	2. v, vi

_Author's note: Watchmen belongs to Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons; I'm just borrowing the characters._

_Yet another fic written for the Watchmen kink meme on livejournal, although there is no porn. The prompt: "ADRIAN/LAURIE, AU where Dan's dead with Rorschach and the rest of New York, and Laurie has no idea her old friend is the one behind the carnage. As creepy-realistic as you can make it - him wanting her to be his miserable trophy wife beard type person out of desperate loneliness, and her being unnerved but nonetheless falling into it 'cause she's got no one else." _

_Thanks to my beta, Mongie.

* * *

_

v.

Nearly two weeks after the disaster, Laurie receives an unexpected phone call. She's still in California, and as her mother passes her the receiver, Laurie holds her breath and sends a silent prayer heavenward that it is Dan.

"Laurie?" a warm, familiar voice asks. Laurie's smile wavers a little as she recognizes Adrian's slight accent. He sounds tinny and very far away, and nothing like Dan at all.

She already knows that Adrian isn't dead – he has been on plenty of news programs in the past fortnight, spearheading the efforts to rebuild New York – but she is still happy to hear from him. They were never particularly close, but he one of the few remaining links to her past, and she realizes how precious those are now. As she twirls the phone cord around her index finger, she thinks that she might even be happy receiving a call from Rorschach, the creep.

"Adrian! How are you? How did you get this number?"

His soft chuckle makes her want to cry. She hasn't heard any real laughter in weeks now, and she thinks it's the most beautiful sound in the world. "I'm good, and I have means. Happy birthday, by the way."

Laurie has forgotten about her birthday; there are so many other, more important things crowding her mind. Like how she is alone in the world except for her mother, and she doesn't want to become like her – a pitiful old woman who has no friends except memories of the dead.

And so when Adrian invites her to come to New York to assist with the cleanup, she doesn't hesitate at all before accepting his offer.

* * *

vi.

By the beginning of December, Laurie has an impressive-sounding title and, for the first time in her life, an apartment of her own. Those things, however, pale in comparison to the work she is doing. She is helping people, genuinely _helping_ them, and after feeling so useless for so long, it's a wonderful thing to be needed. Laurie has been groomed to help others for her entire life, but she is only now realizing that she actually likes it.

Adrian holds a Christmas party, but only for a small group of close friends. It wouldn't look good to have a large, festive gathering when the city – the _world_ – is still reeling from the tragedy that has befallen New York.

Laurie is pleased that she has been invited, but she can't escape the ever-present hollow feeling that fills her chest. People are smiling, laughing, having a good time, and all she can think of are the faces that are missing. She helps herself to a glass of wine, hoping that it will lift her spirits, or at least let her forget for a few hours.

But it doesn't, and the glasses that come after don't, either.

She totters outside to stand on the balcony of Adrian's new apartment, her seventh – or is it eighth? – glass of wine in her hand as she gazes down at the streets below. When the door slides open behind her, she tipsily turns around and sees that it is Adrian who is joining her.

He looks so good – so caring and _alive_ – that Laurie gives him a wobbly smile as he approaches. "Aren't you enjoying the party?" he murmurs, leaning against the railing and crossing his arms as he watches her.

"Oh, yeah." Laurie suppresses a hiccup with relative success. "Especially the wine. Thanks for – all of this." She waves her hand in the air to illustrate her point, not that she can really remember what it is. Adrian grips her elbow and pulls her closer, and Laurie frowns as the remains of her drink slosh onto her shoes.

"It's a long way down," he explains, still not releasing her. "We don't want you taking a spill, do we? That wouldn't be a pleasant end for you, Laurie."

She laughs – that harsh, bitter laugh that was always so familiar to her, even before the disaster – but it transforms into a sob, and then she is confessing to Adrian that Eddie Blake was her father (god _damn_ the man). She'd sworn to herself that she would never tell another living soul that sad fact, and yet here she is blubbering in Adrian's arms, her mascara staining his perfect shirt.

Adrian holds her tight and makes little shushing noises against her hair. It's awkward and strange, and if someone had told her earlier today that she'd be clinging to Adrian and crying over Eddie Blake of all people, she would have called that person insane.

And if she had been informed that she'd almost wish that Adrian would never let her go, she'd have gladly kicked that person's ass.


	3. vii, viii

_Author's note: Watchmen belongs to Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons; I'm just borrowing the characters._

_Yet another fic written for the Watchmen kink meme on livejournal, although there is no porn. The prompt: "ADRIAN/LAURIE, AU where Dan's dead with Rorschach and the rest of New York, and Laurie has no idea her old friend is the one behind the carnage. As creepy-realistic as you can make it - him wanting her to be his miserable trophy wife beard type person out of desperate loneliness, and her being unnerved but nonetheless falling into it 'cause she's got no one else." _

_Thanks to my beta, Mongie.

* * *

_

vii.

_The Comedian was Laurie's father._

Adrian can see it, now that Laurie has revealed the truth: her dark hair, her height, her square features, her temper…

He wonders what she'd think if he made his own confession, that he had been the one who'd murdered Blake and tossed his body into the streets. Adrian rubs his chin thoughtfully. Laurie had always made it clear that she despised Eddie, but that had been before she'd known about the blood link they shared. Could that fact alone change her opinion of the man?

Adrian will never tell her, of course, but it's an interesting puzzle.

In spite of their differences, Adrian has always had a grudging respect for the Comedian. The man had been an amoral brute, but he'd always been a force to be reckoned with until that last encounter. The man had had drive and determination, admirable qualities in anyone – qualities that his daughter possesses as well, except softened, blunted. The Comedian's allegiance had been to himself and whoever wrote his checks; Laurie's is directed towards people, at least now.

He's been watching her ever since Laurie had returned to New York. At first it was only because he had wanted to see if she suspected anything. Adrian was quickly convinced that she did not, and yet he'd still watched her. During his surveillance, however, Adrian had begun to notice how much she genuinely cares for those remaining in the city. She is gaining quite a reputation amongst the survivors, and that is something very valuable indeed.

She would make the perfect politician's wife, and coincidentally, Adrian is about to throw his hat into the ring.

He likes Laurie, and after last night, he's well aware that she likes him, too. With a little work, he can probably convince her to fall in love with him. And why not? It's true that he prefers men to warm his bed, but sex isn't the most important thing in his life, and Adrian is sure that Laurie would never notice a few discrete affairs. Besides, Laurie is strong and fierce – and, he admits with a wry grin, more than a little masculine in features. He's always wanted children of his own, and he's not growing any younger…

It's a perfect plan. Together, united, they will be a force to be reckoned with in politics. They can help not only New York, but the entire world. Adrian Veidt can truly have it all and steer the world towards a perpetual peace while he's at it. There have been worse reasons to marry.

It's something to consider, at least.

* * *

viii.

A few days after the party, Laurie wakes up to the phone ringing. She grumbles as she pushes herself out of bed, sure that it's her mother calling to scold Laurie for not talking to her more often.

But it's not her mother's sharp voice that fills her ear when she picks up the receiver; it is Adrian's, and he doesn't sound like his normal unflappable self. He skips his usual pleasantries and asks if he can stop by to talk to her about something important. When Laurie agrees, he informs her that he'll be there in a minute.

She barely has time to throw on a robe over her nightgown before the doorbell rings. Laurie feels horribly underdressed, even though Adrian has seen in her far less. Half of the city has seen her in less, thanks to that damned latex costume her mother had designed.

When she opens the door, however, all thoughts of her wardrobe fly out of her head. Adrian's hair is damp and unruly, he has bags beneath his eyes, and his clothes are rumpled. He looks terrible. Wordlessly, she steps aside and lets him enter the apartment.

He doesn't wait for her to ask what is wrong, immediately launching into an explanation of his visit. Adrian has received word that a small newspaper will be running a very damaging and libelous story about him, claiming that they have found Rorschach's journal and that it names Adrian as being responsible for the disaster.

"It isn't true. You know that I couldn't hurt innocent people …" His eyes are brimming with tears, and Laurie's heart contracts painfully at the sight.

"It's ridiculous," she agrees, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Everyone knows that it was an alien anyway, Adrian. How could you possibly be responsible for _that_?"

He shrugs helplessly, and Laurie tries to ignore how his muscles ripple beneath her palm.

"Besides, Rorschach's crazy. Who'd believe him about anything?"

"Rorschach is dead. I've been investigating, trying to find the others. His apartment building was incinerated, and all evidence points to him being in it when it happened. This journal is completely fake. It doesn't even exist. They just want to ruin me to sell some newspapers."

Laurie wants to ask him about Dan, but she can't bring herself to extinguish the flickering hope that he's still alive. Not yet.

"Can't you do anything to stop them?" she asks instead, her voice tight with emotion.

"I don't know. I can try, I suppose." Adrian sighs heavily and rubs his temple. "We can't let these rabble-rousers ruin us, Laurie. We've accomplished so much together, and we can do so much more…"

He's staring at her now, staring at her in a way that he's never done before, and Laurie isn't sure whether her stomach is quivering with butterflies of anticipation or with nerves. Adrian kisses her cheek, murmuring that she is a good friend, and leaves her even more confused than she had been before his arrival.

The next day, Laurie reads an article in the _Nova Express_ about how _The New Frontiersman_ office had been raided and its employees arrested on suspicion of terrorist activity. The name of the paper sounds vaguely familiar to her, but as Laurie rubs her cheek, she can't recall why that it so.

All she can remember is how Adrian's lips felt against her skin.


	4. ix, x, xi

_Author's note: Watchmen belongs to Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons; I'm just borrowing the characters._

_Oops, I forgot to finish uploading this story._

* * *

ix.

The situation with _The New Frontiersman_ rattles Adrian's composure. Perhaps he is overreacting. Laurie had assured him that no one would believe Rorschach's crazy ramblings, and she's probably right, but Adrian can't afford to take that chance. He has worked too hard and done too much to watch his dream of a unified world shatter around him. He is so close, so damned _close_, and he won't let anyone ruin this.

Adrian orchestrates it so that he and Laurie spend more time together. He begins to invite her to his apartment often after work, telling her that it's to discuss plans for the city. If Laurie notices that they spend less time talking about New York and more time chatting about everything else, she doesn't protest.

The woman is starving for attention, and she doesn't even realize how much. Adrian asks her questions – usually mundane, silly little things, like her favorite color and dream vacation spot. Sometimes he mentions serious topics too, but not too often. And always, _always_, he listens intently to her answers, as if she is the most interesting person in the world to him.

And, truthfully, Adrian enjoys her company. Laurie is smart and funny, and sometimes he finds himself wondering what it would be like to have this every night. Marriage is looking more attractive by the day, and not just because it will help his budding political career. Laurie is no Hephaestion, but she is close enough - as close as he'll probably ever get to finding someone to share his life with in this world.

One night, after they work their way through a bottle of wine (and Laurie drinks more than her fair share of it), she is the one who asks the questions. Her words are slurred, but Adrian can understand her perfectly, which seems to amuse her.

"D'ya think he'll ever come back to earth?"

"Jon?" Adrian shrugs his shoulders, remembering his final conversation with the man. "The last thing he said to me was that nothing ever ends, but I'm not sure if that applies to self-imposed exile."

"That sounds like somethin' he'd say." She pauses to swallow a few more gulps of wine. "Dan's dead, isn't he?"

Adrian purses his lips and stares into his own half-full glass. It is dark red, like blood splattered over the snow… "Yes. I think that he's gone, Laurie."

"He was a good man," she mumbles, half to Adrian and half into her empty glass. "D'ya think he suffered?"

Rising from the couch, Adrian strolls over to the full-length window that overlooks Manhattan. There had to be sacrifices for utopia; even Jon had understood that, when the man had returned to Karnak to inform Adrian of the latest – but not the last – blood that had been shed for this new world. And yet, of the millions that stain his hands, it is Dan's death that pains him the most, and it is Dan's face he sees as he stares at his shadowy reflection in the window.

"No," he says finally. "No, I don't think he suffered, Laurie."

_Not as I do_.

* * *

x.

When Adrian proposes a few months later, Laurie doesn't know how to answer at first. It's not entirely unexpected – he certainly has been showing her a lot of attention lately – and yet it catches her off guard at the same time.

"I thought that you were gay," she blurts out, and then she claps her hand over her mouth.

Adrian laughs (god, she loves it when he laughs, because his eyes shine and the lines around his eyes crinkle slightly, just like Dan's had). "Don't tell me that you believed that nonsense, Laurie."

"No." She gazes down at the ring. It's huge and beautiful and glimmers in the dim light. "I mean, no, not really. I - yes…yes, I will marry you."

She doesn't love him – not like she had once loved Jon, not like she would have loved Dan if they'd had more time – but Adrian is a good man, a kind man, and they can do a world of good together. Marriage, she decides as he slips the ring onto her finger, doesn't always have to be about flowers and candy and romance and promises of forever.

Sometimes, marriage can simply be between two people who need each other.

* * *

xi.

The wedding is a small, private affair. When they share a kiss at the altar, Laurie tells herself that she is doing the right thing.


	5. xii, xiii

_Author's note: Watchmen belongs to Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons; I'm just borrowing the characters.

* * *

_

xii.

Eight years later, Adrian Veidt is the president of the United States and has an impossibly high approval rating. For the first time in the United States' history, there is talk that the incumbent will run unopposed in the next election. His first lady devotes herself to charity and their three children – two boys and a girl.

Everything is perfect.

One afternoon, Laurie wanders into her husband's study to browse his shelves of books. Their anniversary is fast approaching, and although Adrian always protests that she doesn't need to buy him anything, Laurie always does. This year, she thinks that she'll buy him a book about Alexander the Great, one that he doesn't already have in his massive collection.

As she runs her fingers over the rows, one book in particular catches her eye. Its binding is tattered and appears to be very, very old. She pulls it from the shelf, puzzled by the words on the cover: JOURNAL 1984-1985.

Laurie flips it open carefully, afraid that the cover will be torn away from the book if she is too rough with it. The pages are filled with a scrawl so tiny and cramped that it's nearly illegible. It's definitely not Adrian's handwriting, but she doesn't recognize it. She skims through the pages until she comes to the last, a familiar sign at the bottom and an even more familiar date at the top.

_Rorschach._

_November 1, 1985._

The date of the failed alien invasion. The date that she had last seen Jon.

Her hands feel cold and clammy, and they tremble as she squints to read the final entry.

_Whatever the precise nature of this conspiracy, Adrian Veidt responsible._

Laurie draws in a sharp breath, forcing herself to read the word again, even though her stomach is turning to lead.

_Adrian Veidt responsible._

She drops the journal to the floor and clings to the bookshelf, her knees shaking so badly that she can barely support her own weight.

_Rorschach was crazy_, Laurie tells herself harshly. _Don't you remember all of the stupid shit he used to say?_

But she isn't thinking of Rorschach's words right now. She's recalling Adrian's.

_This journal is completely fake. It doesn't even exist._

He'd lied to her. The bastard had looked her right in the eye and _lied_ to her, and she'd believed every word!

_It isn't true. You know that I couldn't hurt innocent people…_

Once again, Laurie begins to piece together the fragments of truth that have always been there, waiting to be discovered.

Adrian…no. No. Not him. Not this.

She tells herself that it can't be true as she bends down to pick up the journal, even as she scans the words again. Rorschach was always crazy, was always a conspiracy nut, was always a little freak. Why in the world should she believe him now? Adrian couldn't have orchestrated all of this. He's a good man, the president of the United States, for Christ's sake.

But the truth is, there have been no further invasion attempts. There has been nothing past the first, horrible case. The truth is…

Laurie shoves the journal back onto the shelf and strides towards the Oval Office. Adrian is always there in the afternoons, catching up on paperwork and having phone conferences with world leaders. She needs to talk to him, even though she doesn't know what she will say.

She needs to hear him explain. Laurie knows that his explanation will make sense; they always do. He'll laugh and tell her how things had really happened, how he had come to possess Rorschach's journal, and then she'll laugh too, because she was so stupid, thinking that her husband, the father of her children, the President of the United States, had blown up New York with a giant alien.

_What if that's really what happened?_

Laurie tells herself that she's being silly as she brushes past one of the secretaries and opens the door, unannounced. It doesn't make any sense. Adrian is a vegetarian. He often grieves for those who were lost in or driven mad by the explosion. Besides, why would he keep incriminating evidence around if he is truly responsible?

Adrian looks up at her intrusion, a smile half-frozen on his handsome face. Their younger son, Robert, is perched on his daddy's lap, and the other two children are playing a game of Connect Four on the rug. It's such a domestic scene, such a peaceful, tranquil scene…

"Laurie, is something wrong?" There's concern in Adrian's voice, genuine concern, and Laurie stares at him for a moment.

_And what if?_

Her children have a father who loves them and cares for them, something she never had growing up.

_What if he is responsible?_

She has a husband who loves her and cares for her, something she never thought she would have.

_What if he did do it?_

The United States has a president who works with other world leaders to build a better future for them all.

_What if he killed all of those people?_

She shakes her head, and something inside of her feels like it bends until it breaks.

If it is the truth…she doesn't want to ever know.

* * *

xiii.

Later that night, Laurie sneaks into her husband's study and burns Rorschach's journal. Her anniversary present to him that year is a pile of ashes left behind in the fireplace.

She doesn't think he'll mind. He might even find it romantic.

Of all the people in the world, Adrian Veidt knows best that something beautiful can be built amidst ashes.


End file.
